Ex Umbris
by Alarun
Summary: Severus Snape meets someone on his return from a meeting with Voldemort. Originally Pray for Daylight, but since rewritten.
1. Default Chapter

Title:  _Ex Umbris_ (From Shadows)

Author:  Alarun

Rating: R (blood and gore and death.  Hurray!)

Distribution:  Whatever you want, just let me know so I can brag to all my friends. (GnirpsEvilhotmail.com).

Note:  Book five, The Order of the Phoenix, never happened here, so I guess it's an AU… with the exception of "Snivellus," and maybe a random character or two.  This is Harry's seventh year. 

This was originally Pray for Daylight, but has been revamped.  Get it?  Vamped.

__

As your bony fingers close around me  
Long and spindly  
Death becomes me  
Heaven can you see what I see  
  
Hey you pale and sickly child  
You're death and living reconciled  
Been walking home a crooked mile

There's no time for hesitating

Pain is ready, pain is waiting

Primed to do it's educating

Feel the fever coming

You're shaking and twitching

You can scratch all over

But that won't stop you itching

Blame it on your karmic curse

Oh shame upon the universe

It knows its lines

It's well rehearsed

It sucked you in, it dragged you down

To where there is no hallowed ground

Where holiness is never found

Dream on

Depeche Mode, "Dream On"

__

__

The cold wind felt like a rasp against the exposed skin of his face.  Moving silently through the still night, his fleeting presence hesitated at the front boundary of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; the looming cast iron gate that separated the Forbidden Forest from nearly a thousand students and staff. 

He relaxed, leaning his burning forehead against the cold, heavy metal. 

The silver mask rested in the deep breast pocket of the thick, black, coarsely woven wool of his Death Eater's robes.  He had just met with Voldemort.  Had proven his loyalty to the Dark Lord once again.  Barely.

He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him frozen inside.  Unconsciously, he grasped his left arm with his right, holding it tightly against his side.  He closed his eyes and willed down the dizziness, breathing slowly to regain a steady heartbeat.  Hot blood slowly crept down his left side, and he felt it pool into his shoe.  The Dark Lord had gotten irritated tonight, and actually broke through skin in a fit of anger.  Severus had the image of the blade Voldemort had used imprinted on his mind, a wicked, curved knife with a bone handle.  He had never seen the dark wizard use a weapon other than his wand, and wondered if tonight had set a precedent.

He prayed to anyone who was out there that it wasn't a new routine.  He had enough scars to hide already.

When the ground began tilting at a strange angle from bloodloss induced dizziness, he quietly unhooked the large latch and pulled the gate open just enough for his lean frame to fit through.

Before he could will himself to move, however, something took hold of him; a firm grip on each of his shoulders, near his neck.  They pulled back and turned him around and slammed him against the gate, making the heavy cast iron slam shut so loudly that it echoed off of the bare trees and surrounding hills.  He barely contained a cry as he was pushed against the gate and held there, his heels off of the frosted grass.

More surprising still was the possessor of that great strength; he had thought that it might have been a man equaling Hagrid's stature.

It was a woman.

She was nearly a head shorter than him, and her small hands were still on his shoulders.  Wide grey eyes were slightly tilted up at the outer corners.  Her face was thin, with a strong jaw that bordered on lantern. Black hair twisted into a thick braid rested over her shoulder like a snake, and a small, pointed nose rested over a wide, smirking, red-lipped mouth.  Her white teeth glittered in the moonlight.

"Severus Snape."  Her voice was low, and she placed a heavy accent on the consonants.  "I have waited to meet you for a long while." 

"To whom do I owe the pleasure?"  Her eyes held his as his sarcastic personality automatically took hold.  The rest of the world vanished as he realized that he couldn't look away.

She ignored him.  "It is imperative is that you go to Hogwarts immediately.  You are not safe on this side of the gate.  You must heed my warning.  Do not leave Hogwarts again."

And with that, she brushed her lips against his, and was gone.

Snape stalked through the wide corridors of Hogwarts, intent solely on the Headmaster's office.  It was past curfew, so with the annoyingly obvious exception of Potter's gang, all students were safely in their dorms. 

He barked out "Gobstopper," as he approached the stone gargoyle.  It moved out of the way so quickly that Severus didn't have to pause before going through the wide, arching doorway.  The distressed potions master ascended the stone staircase and moved to knock on the dark green, iron bound door to Albus's office.

Before his knuckles touched the wood, however, Albus's voice could be heard on the other side; "Come in, Severus."

"Albus--" Severus started as he opened the door and stepped inside the cozy office of the man who saved his life on multiple occasions.  The rest of his greeting strangled to death in his throat as he noticed two other figures in the room.

One of the figures spat a single word at him; "Snape."

He replied in kind. "Black."

The other visitor was wearing blue and white pinstriped pajamas and no shoes.  The belt of his dark red robe was pulled through one of the loops, one side of it being knotted in his white-knuckled hands.  The scar on his forehead, under his unruly mop of black hair, stood out even more because young Potter was sans glasses.  He looked terribly tired, with bloodshot eyes and dark spots like bruises under them.

"Potter?" Severus turned to Dumbledore as the Headmaster raised a hand.

"Harry has had another dream in which he awoke with pain in his scar."  Snape felt a pang of sympathy for the kid, but it only lasted for a moment.  "It was about you, Severus."

"What?  Why?"  Snape belatedly directed the question at the prophetic student, who flinched under his gaze and studied the ornate rug at his feet.

"T-there was …a girl …she saved your life in the Forbidden Forest, sir. "

Snape narrowed his eyes, "Tell me how."

"By warning you to get back to Hogwarts.  There was something…lurking …around you.  Some sort of a… a shadowy ghost thing.  It was stalking you, or something.  I didn't see it clearly.  At the back gate.  You were---"

"That was tonight," Snape snarled at Dumbledore as the Headmaster offered him a lemon drop.  "It was nothing.  Go back to your dormitory, Potter, and take your _dog_ with you." 

"This is about Harry, _Snivellus_.  I think he has the right to hear about it!"  Sirius Black interjected loudly, straightened up; his hand was moving slowly for the pocket that undoubtedly held his wand.

"Potter may have dreamt about it, but it does not concern either of you."  Severus Snape was not in any sort of mood to bicker with an old enemy, so he kept his hands in clear sight and away from his wand, though he kept his body turned so that his wounded side was away from his schoolyard bully.  He turned back to the Headmaster with an obvious air of dismissal.  Potter moved toward the door, but Black only folded his arms across his chest.

"Sirius, I need to hear Severus's report.  I hope you'll understand."  Dumbledore's eyes pleaded with Sirius to leave off Severus.  "And if you wouldn't mind, Sirius, stop in to wake up Madam Pomfrey.  We're going to need her services tonight."

Glowering, though an eyebrow rose in surprise at the mention of the mediwitch, the animagus reluctantly took his leave, followed closely by The Boy Who Lived.

"Why would Potter dream about it, though?"

Dumbledore stood up and walked to the fireplace, staring into the flames for a long time before answering.  His half-moon shaped glasses reflected the flickering orange light.  "This woman, whoever she is, seems to project strong telepathic vibrations.  Harry Potter is the most open at receiving prophetic dreams, because his mind is …well, _used to it_ now." 

"So, why would his scar hurt?" Severus fully expected that he knew the answer, but he didn't want to acknowledge it without the Headmaster coming out and saying it.

"I don't know, unless Voldemort was actually outside of Hogwarts …"

Snape tightly closed his eyes.  He tensed as Madam Pomfrey entered without knocking, her wand already held toward him.

"Sit down, Severus."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter I**

He considered puncturing his eardrums with his quill.  

It would have been less painful than Sprout's singing.

It was Christmas at Hogwarts, the world through the bewitched ceiling a dazzling, sterile white.  A gigantic evergreen was being decorated by most of the faculty and students who had remained at the boarding school for winter break.  Others were sitting at their respective tables, playing board games, reading, or any of various activities that could only amuse small minds.  _Marbles, indeed._

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were playing a quietly enthusiastic game of chess at the Gryffindor table, Potter nowhere to be seen.  Severus wondered briefly why they would stay at the school, but figured it was to comfort the nightmare-ridden Boy Hero.  

Severus Snape sat grading papers at the Head Table, attempting to get his work done and silently cursing Albus.  The Headmaster had persuaded his office door to remain shut so the Potions Master would be forced out of his dark recluse.  He scribbled a red 92 on the top of Hermione Granger's report on _The Juice Of Mandrake Root And Its Relevance To The Draught Of The Living Death_.

"Severus!  Help us put the star up!"  

An eyelid began to twitch.  He was about to verbally abuse Hannah Hooch when the ever present tingling in his left forearm flared up in immense agony, and he swallowed his words before they could turn into a shriek.  He closed his eyes, ground his teeth, and unconsciously snapped his quill in half.

Albus and Minerva were there in an instant, on each side.  

"You cannot apparate, Severus.  You remember what that woman said the last time …there is _something_ out there."  Minerva put her hand on his shoulder, making him glare toward her voice. He couldn't clearly see where she was standing.

"_I cannot get there if I don't apparate_, Minerva."  He attempted to get up, but they put a hand on each shoulder so he couldn't.

"You may not come back, Severus.  It would be safer for you to stay here."  

"I _have to go_!  Since when is my safety more important than the Order?" He tried to stand up, but he was too weak to fight both the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress.

"No." Dumbledore said shortly, ignoring Severus's protests.

"We will _not_ allow it."

Severus put his head in his hands.

***

"I think there's something wrong with Professor Snape," Hermione Granger looked up from her queen's pawn, which she had moved away from the queen.  It was looking at her and shaking its little helmeted head.

"What?  It looks like the other professors are picking on him or something."  Ron looked up to see Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore push on Snape's shoulders, keeping him in his chair.  "_The mean ol' professors are picking on ickle Snapeykins._  The git looks like he wants to go to the dungeons.  He's been up here for an unusually long time, for him."

"He looks like something is hurting him, though.  Why won't they let go of him?"  Hermione nearly stood up, but Ron had his bishop destroy her pawn, making her reevaluate her mediocre chess strategy.

As she was scowling at Ron's chessboard, she felt a quick burst of ginger smelling air at her back.  She sat up and turned to her left, seeing Madam Pomfrey run up to the Head Table and press a bottle of blue liquid into Snape's hand.  She proceeded then to feel his forehead and check his vital signs with her wand, clucking to herself like a mother hen, ignoring Snape's scowling protests.  The Potions Master studied the potion through the bottle, and then shook his head at the Mediwitch and set it on the table.

"See." Hermione looked smugly at Ron, who stuck his tongue out at her.  "I hope he isn't ill, he looked alright five minutes ago ---"

"Who looked alright five minutes ago?"  Harry Potter approached the Gryffindor table, looking the worse for wear.  He was followed by Snuffles, who wagged his tail briefly.  He sat down heavily and food immediately appeared in front of him.  He took a handful of green grapes.  Snuffles sat down next to the bench.

"Hermie's worried about Snape.  Morning, Harry, Snuffles." Ron's gaze wavered between the chessboard and his friends as he decimated Hermione's side.  

Hermione watched Harry look toward the Head Table, where Snape was struggling to escape the faculty's clutch unscathed.  They weren't letting go of him.

Just then, he doubled over, clutching his left arm against his stomach, and Harry knew.

"He's being summoned by Voldemort.  Oh, get used to it, Ron, I've been saying his name for seven years.  Remember that dream I was telling you about?  He's not supposed to go back.  Sirius told me that's what Headmaster Dumbledore said."

"But, isn't the Dark Mark going to hurt until he goes?"

"I guess."


	3. chapter 3

Ex Umbris _Chapter 3_

When he woke up, he realized that the ceiling was white, with bright lights shining down on him.

The Infirmary.

Damn it, Albus.

He attempted to sit up, but realized that both of his wrists were tied rather tightly to the sides of the bed.  Severus Snape bit back another curse as movement to his left made him squint in that direction.

At least the pain was gone.

Mostly.

He cringed as a lesser, burning wave emanated from the dark tattoo on the inside of his left forearm, as if it flared up to his thoughts. 

"Does it feel a little better, Severus?  It looked like it hurt quite ---"

"Damn it, Albus.  You should have let me go."  He felt guilty as he saw the Headmaster's shoulders slump as if there were a great weight pressing down on him.  "Headmaster, I'm ---"

"I know, I know, Severus.  It's just that we're worried for you.  You have enough to worry about with Voldemort, you don't need some monster attacking you whenever you leave Hogwarts, too."

"The monster probably is Voldemort.  We don't know anything.  I never _saw_ anything.  Only the word of some strange woman who apparently _lives_ in the Forbidden Forest, along with a bad dream on Potter's part, have alerted any of us to danger."  Severus closed his mouth as the pain began to flare again.

"Here, Poppy gave me this for you.  It's another Sleeping Draught." 

"No," he managed to choke out.

"Oh, sometimes I think you weren't disciplined enough as a child!  Will you just take it?"

"It's not good to take it more than once in 24 hours …"

"Severus, it _has_ been 24 hours."

Over the course of the next week, there were only flashes of pain and blurry faces.  The Dark Mark flared in waves, and it just kept getting worse.  The Potions Master woke up more than once screaming in pain and soaked in sweat.

Albus had by now figured out that he wasn't being summoned for a meeting.  For the pain to last this long, it was obvious that Voldemort either wanted to torment the spy or summon him for a private conference, and was getting more irritated as the days went by and his Death Eater didn't put in an appearance. 

Voldemort was feeling particularly murderous.  Harry Potter had wound up in the Hospital Wing more than once because of the pain in his scar.  The child looked terribly haunted, and was obviously plagued by nightmares.

"Albus …Please, j-just let me go …"

Dumbledore grasped Severus's hand in his, squeezing tightly.  He resolved not to give Severus any more sleeping potion.

The world slowly came into focus around the waves of brutal agony.  The edges of his vision were blurry, colorless.  He attempted to move his arms, and felt no resistance on his wrists.  Surprised, he looked around for signs of other human activity.  He found none.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed proved more difficult than he had thought, but he managed to stand up and find his black Death Eater robes, along with clean clothes for under it, which lay on a chair next to his bed, concealing his silver mask and his wand.  His shoes were under the chair.

The wave of pain slowed enough for him to put on the black slacks and white shirt, not bothering to tuck it in.  Severus put on the shoes and robe, leaving it open because he was so hot.  He put his wand in his belt, and the mask was shoved into one of the inner, breast pockets.  Then he left the Infirmary through the less conspicuous door.

Once he made it to the fresh, cold air, he inhaled deeply, feeling some of the pain in his arm lessen.  The powdery snow was not yet ankle deep, but it was still snowing furiously.  He trudged onward.

"Professor Snape!"  A distant, rumbling voice was running up behind him.  "I didn't expect you to wake up so quickly, Professor.  Headmaster Dumbledore asked if Fang and I would escort yeh to the apparation boundary," Hagrid and his huge dog stormed up beside the spy, slowing to match his unwavering speed. "If ya wouldn't mind, that is."

Knowing better than to send Hagrid back to Albus, Severus held back his original biting remark and instead said, "I wouldn't mind, Hagrid.  I could use s-some company, anyway."  The damning quiver in his voice was back.  He cradled his pained arm in his other arm, indifferent to whether Hagrid saw him in his moment of weakness or not.

Thankfully, though, Hagrid was silent as they walked to the cast iron gate and through it.  The forest wasn't nearly so foreboding in the daylight, though the sun was beginning to wane.  Black trees swayed ominously, rubbing together to make an eerie, musical sound.  The path they were following was wide enough for four people to walk abreast of each other, and was only a half-mile to the town of Hogsmeade.

When the familiar tingling of leaving a ward began and ended, Snape stopped and addressed the Care of Magical Creatures professor.  "Thank you, Hagrid, but you'd better go back now.  I may be hours yet, and night ---"

"Sorry, Professor, but I ain't leaving yet.  I'll start a nice campfire and Fang and I'll wait for ya to get back, if it's alright with you, sir."

The pain in his arm was building again, so Snape simply nodded touched his wand to the mark on his arm, apparating to an unknown location.

"Finally."  A hissing voice said from behind him.  "I thought you'd given up on me, Severus." 

Voldemort moved around the spy in a slow circle, his feet not touching the ground.  Snape belatedly knelt on one knee after noticing that he and the Dark Lord were alone.

"I live to serve, My Lord, but I was detained for a long while by Dumbledore."

"Of course, Severus …" Snape's name rolled off of his tongue as he looked down at the professor.  "But you _have_ arrived, at last."

No reply was necessary to that statement, so Snape continued to look at the dried grass he was kneeling on.  It was closer to the equator than Scotland, then, since there was no hint of snow on the air.

"You can't have tried very hard to get away, Severus, because you did not actually _get_ away.  Tell me, am I that bad a master?"

_Merlin, stop saying my name …_"No, My ---"

"Enough!  _I have eyes and ears in that damned school, Severus._  I _know_ that the Headmaster knows you possess the Dark Mark.  And what did he do, Severus?  He gave you a _sleeping potion and put you in the Infirmary_!  Is that the act of a fool, or _a man_ _who knows everything about you and is using it to his advantage_?"

"My Lord, I have no idea ---"

"No.  No need to play idiot with me, Severus.  _I know what you are._  Do you not think the dreams that young Potter receives are only one-way?  I can see what he sees, occasionally, when he is under great emotional stress.  I know what he saw in Dumbledore's pensieve, but I thought it must have been the guise you used to get yourself a position at that school.  I now realize my overconfidence in you, Severus.

"Crucio!"

Snape felt the ground tilt up to meet him at an odd angle.  A booted foot met his ribs, and he heard a loud snap. 

"Was I wrong, Minerva?" Albus Dumbledore paced in front of his fireplace with his hands clasped nervously behind his back.  "Should I have let him go immediately?  Should I not have let him go at all?"

"Albus, if you had kept him here, he would have gone insane.  I know it.  The man is under stress.  There's nothing you can do to protect him, anymore.  He must be trusted to make his own decisions."  Minerva stopped to blow her nose quietly.


	4. chapter 4

Ex Umbris

Chapter 4

Snape felt fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to apparate without splinching himself, so thankfully the Dark Lord did it himself.  He felt his back hit the ground again, but there was snow this time.  It seemed much colder than before, except for the gentle heat from a campfire on his right side.  He forced his eyes open, the blood that had dried on his eyelids cracking.  At least it had stopped snowing.

"H-Hagrid ..?"  Snape gasped quietly, turning his head as far as he could until it hurt.  Fang came over and licked the blood off his cheek.

The Potions Master rolled over, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet.  He stood there, wavering, taking in his surroundings.  The forest looked as black as pitch because of the fire going in the center of the small clearing.  Fang sat next to Snape's left leg, leaning on him.  Hagrid was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps the wait had been longer and colder than anticipated, and Hagrid went back to the warmth of his hut.  Snape kicked snow over the fire, and the teacher and dog began their slow and painful journey back to the castle.  It occurred to him to question why Voldemort would allow him to return to Hogwarts knowing that he was a spy, but he just cared about being warm again, so he decided to put off pondering the answer until he got back.

His limbs were numb with cold, his face felt chapped, but he arrived to the old, cast iron gate.  This time, he didn't pause, but snapped the latch and pulled the gate open in a moment of uneasiness about his last encounter on this side of the boundary.

Familiar hands gripped his shoulders as he turned, and the gate was wrenched out of his grasp and he was pushed onto his back, in the snow.  He struggled, but he was too tired to do more than push weakly at her hands.

It was the grey-eyed woman, again.  Her hair flared around her as she moved, as if she were under water.  She wore form-fitting, pleated breeches and a thick white shirt under a black vest.  She didn't look the least bit cold as she stepped over him, each foot just under his ribs, and sat down.  Resting her chin in her hands, elbows resting on her knees, she looked down at him with no expression.

He coughed.  "Would you m-mind?  It's a bit cold down here."

That made her smile.  "I will warm you up, Severus Snape.  It is good to see you again."  She stood up and grabbed his wrists, pulling him painfully to his feet with inhuman strength.  "But did I not tell you that you must not cross the gate between Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest?"

"It's not like I had a choice …" He trailed off as she pressed him against the freezing cold gate, her hands still holding his wrists.  She kissed him gently, just a brushing of lips, but it made him forgot about the cold. 

"Are you warm yet?"  Without giving him a chance to answer, she nuzzled his black hair behind his shoulder, kissing his neck.  He attempted to inconspicuously remove his hands from her grasp, but she tightened her hold and opened her mouth against his jugular.

He felt two burning pin-pricks in his neck, and an indescribable pressure inside his body, like she was drinking all of his ...

…Oh, Merlin.  Blood.

Snape fought to break the vampire's hold on him, but she was much stronger than he.  His knees refused to hold him up anymore, and he slid to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.  He felt her chuckle against him, all around him, inside him.  He shivered.  And there was nothing he could do.  Where was Hagrid?  Did she get him, too?

Just as his eyes closed of their own accord, he felt the building pressure release, and she moved away from his neck.  Snape felt his chin being raised up, and he struggled to open his eyes.  He watched her bring her own wrist to her mouth and slice it with one of her sharp eyeteeth.  The blood pooled on her wrist and down it, making it look like a liquid bracelet.  She pressed the bleeding wrist against his mouth, and he drank.

Sirius Black stared in awe from the other side of the gate, in the form of a big black dog.

"Oh, Severus."  Minerva McGonagall held her white handkerchief against each eye in turn, looking at the black casket with silver fittings as it was lowered into the awaiting grave at the Hogwarts cemetery, one of the less advertised accompaniments of the school.

Albus Dumbledore had given a tearful eulogy to the staff and students, most of whom looked saddened by their Potions Master's untimely demise, after dinner the night before.  Nobody had asked why Snape was outside of Hogwarts' grounds at three in the morning.

Albus, of course, blamed himself.  Not that there was anything he could have done differently. 

Hagrid, too, blamed himself.  The Care of Magical Creatures Professor remembered starting a fire, but that was all.  He did not remember waiting for Severus, or walking back to his hut.  The next morning he awoke in his bed, fully clothed and wearing his boots, knowing that he had forgotten something crucial.  Upon making his morning rounds, he found Severus lying in the red snow, dead, at the cast iron gate.

It was raining lightly, too warm for snow.  Minerva transfigured her wand into an umbrella, watching as some of her students did the same.  Albus didn't seem to notice it was raining.

Minerva pulled a hairpin out of her bun and transfigured it into another umbrella, handing it to the devastated Headmaster.  He took it dully, not looking away from the potion master's headstone.

"He's gone, Minerva.  I can't believe he's gone."


	5. chapter 5

Ex Umbris

Chapter 5

_Space.___

__

_Black, twirling, spinning, endless.  No up, no down.  Nebulae and starstuff and black.  Just …black.___

__

_No body, no mind.  Not seeing, hearing, touching, feeling…___

__

_Just there.___

__

_Where was here?  Where is here?  Have I always been here?  Forming words again in a mind that wasn't there.  Seemed a first time again.  A first time for everything.  Again.___

::No.::_  A firm voice asserted itself, deep, masculine, commanding.  It was used to being heard, listened to.  He stopped thinking thoughts, he stopped dreaming.  He only listened.  ::_You have not always been here, nor will you always be here.  This is a passageway.  You must choose life or death.  This is a bridge.  A fork, only.  Choose, Severus Snape.  Choose a direction.  Do you choose to live in the Mortal realm again, or do you choose one of the Afters?  An After?  Which?  Choose.  Hear.  Obey.::__

__

_Severus Snape?  What was that?___

__

_There was another voice, now.  Many voices, all talking. Some lilting, some sad.  Some in different languages he could and could not understand.  He listened carefully.___

__

::You are beginning to forget, you must need to remember, Severus Snape.  Choose a Life.  Choose an After.  You do not choose which Life or After you receive, but you must choose one or the other.  Which do you choose?  Think.  Think of yourself.  One or the other.::

__

_Yourself.  Myself?  Who was I?  What was I?___

::You were a man.  You were a spy, a teacher, a traitor to a dark cause.  You taught children to defend themselves.  You made a promise to a man once.  Do you choose to return to that world?  The world of Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort?  The world of the Boy Who Lived, and Muggles and Wizards and Witches?  Do you choose Life?::__

__

_Who will I be?  Who am I now?___

__

::Now you are nothing.  You will be who you choose to be.  Do you choose an After?  A heaven?  A hell?  You do not choose which.  You are weighed.  You must be weighed.  Do you choose an After?::

__

_I want to be who I was.  I was happy?  Was I happy?___

__

::You were not happy.  You will not be happy.  Do you choose Life?::

::Halt.::

A louder voice.  A feminine voice, as commanding as the first.  She was heard.  The voices halted their incessant stream of choices, awaiting her.

::He hasn't a choice.  He must go to Life to be mine.  He is mine, now.  He drank.::

__

::So mote it be.::

__

_…Cold so cold but not cold or hot or dark or light just there…___

__

__

All of his muscles convulsed, making him jump as if a gunshot had been fired next to his ear.  Something was dark, smelled of rotten flesh, no fresh air.

He was lying on his back.  His arms were crossed over his chest. 

He moved to sit up, his hands meeting resistance.  Satin lining, soft buttons.  Hard wood underneath.

Frantic, he clawed with his fingers.  The lining ripped, soft stuffing next.  He clawed to the wood; breathing was difficult, like he was underwater.  His lungs didn't want to draw in this stench.  He hit the top of the cage as hard as he could, again and again and again.  It cracked.  He felt it crack.  He didn't hear it or see it.

Ignoring the new sensation that he felt in his hands and up his forearms, ignoring the thick liquid that came from inside of him, he clawed desperately.  Breaking away the cage, he felt something soft and salty and damp.  He pulled as much of it into his coffin as he could, making enough room for him to get through the opening and in the direction he hoped was up. 

Air.  Fresh, clean, blessed air.  No more drowning.  Wash away the stench.  Wash away the pain.  Pain?

He looked down at his hands.  They were both mangled, bleeding.  He barely registered.  Neither of them would bend into a fist, so he just ignored them and looked around.

The world had gone smoky.  Or foggy.  He couldn't see anything clearly.  Like looking at the sun through fog.

_Where was I?  Where am I now?  Where am I going to go?___

He was sitting in the wet, dewy grass.  He felt it under his hands, it was cold, and sensation ran up his arms.  How he had missed being able to feel!  Looking back, he saw a pretty block of stone.  It was flattened, and it was carved.  He couldn't read it.  It had words on it, but he couldn't remember how to read.  He couldn't see it clearly enough to make himself remember.  He felt the engraving with his broken and battered hands.  S was the first letter and the last letter, and the first letter of the second word.  Severus?  Severus Snape.  That sounded distantly familiar.  He ignored the rest and used the stone that held the words to pull himself to his feet.

Harry Potter had woken up to a deafening, desperate scream that was later surmised to be his own.  Pain had blinded the seventh year; it felt like somebody had placed a burning hot wire over the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. 

The nightmare included flashes of the same prophecy he had had before the silver-eyed monster killed Professor Snape.  He remembered the man's funeral and the black casket being lowered into the ground.  And after that …

__

…After that, it was darkness and the overpowering stench of rotting corpse, and claustrophobia and frantic escape from a …

A coffin.

Harry Potter, trailed by Sirius in his animagus form, and concerned room-mates Ron Weasley (who had gotten Hermione Granger from the seventh year girls' dorm), and Neville Longbottom, ran as fast as he could to Headmaster Dumbledore's office. 

The five of them skidded to a halt by the stone gargoyle, hard of breath and not worried about being caught out of their dorms after hours.  Not knowing the password, Ron spewed out all different forms of candy until the statue finally moved to the side, revealing a wide stone doorway.


	6. chapter 6

Ex Umbris

Chapter 6

The instant the Headmaster told his password _(pecan turtles)_ to his gargoyle guard, the five Gryffindors attempted to all sprint through the doorway at once.  The bedraggled group slid to a stop, just barely managing not to run the 150-year-old wizard down.

"What's this?  Gryffindors out after hours?"  Albus Dumbledore attempted light-heartedness, but he knew that the ever-before-present twinkle in his eyes was absent.  After the mysterious death of their only double agent Severus, as if the loss of the man wasn't enough, the Order of the Phoenix was having a difficult time preemptively halting Death Eater revels.  They had no inside information.  And Voldemort was taking advantage of the fact.

"Sir, Harry has ---" Hermione was cut off by Harry, who surprised the small gathering by bursting into tears.

"Harry, is it your scar?  Does it hurt, my boy?" Dumbledore resisted the urge to hug the Boy Who Lived, by placing a light hand on his shoulder.

__

He nodded, removing his glasses and accepting a white handkerchief that the Headmaster pulled from one of his multiple pockets with a muffled, "thanks, sir."

After Harry blew his nose and wiped his face, he was able to speak a bit more lucidly.  "I had another dream, sir.  It was …it was the scariest thing I've ever seen.  Trapped in the dark, with no air …and the smell of rotting flesh."  Harry stared at the gargoyle, tears running anew from his bloodshot eyes.  "It was a coffin, Headmaster.  And I think it was Sn –Professor Snape."

Dumbledore stopped breathing for a moment, surprise showing plainly on his face.  "Neville, please go into my office and use the floo network to call Professor McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey, and Hagrid.  Tell them what Harry said and that they need to get to the cemetery as quickly as they can.  Ron, Hermione, go with him."

Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore headed at a sprint for the burial place of the Potions Master.

Chapter IV 

Rough tree bark, earthy smell of soft dirt, wet grass, fog and darkness.

The edges of his vision were beginning to clear; he could see the black sky, the small bright lights of stars and from the castle in the distance.  He felt his knees give up their support, and he slid to the ground, leaning against a wide maple tree.  The wet grass and leaves soaked through his clothing, dark ceremonial robes light with dust and dirt and rot. 

Something was coming from the distance.  From the direction of the castle.  Two spots of lights were growing bigger and bigger as they descended upon his still form, and the ground shook with their passing.

He had grown more sensitive to the earth, it seemed, since his time enveloped within its dark embrace.  It moved and shifted, and he knew its own thoughts as if they were his own.  They were humans, unaware of the world around them as a living being.

He only stared as they approached, not bothering to stand up or gawk.  A tall man with a flowing white beard was in the lead of the small group, walking quickly, as if he expected this to be only a dream.  To his right was a stern, steel haired woman in a dark green nightdress.  She held a light at the end of a stick, a wand, he realized belatedly.  To the old man's other side was a short, young boy with disheveled black hair and striped pajamas and a shaggy dog.  Next to him was a man so tall that he dwarfed the rest of the company, and trotting at his side was another large dog.  He was carrying a lantern.  A stout woman with a wide skirt and a mop of curly brown hair ran into the lead when she noticed him watching her, but she was called back by the old man with the white beard.

They halted before they reached the prone man leaning against the tree, though each of them wanted to step forward and grab him and see if he was real and sane and alive.  Madame Pomfrey had the most difficult time, her legs almost unconsciously carrying her ahead.  The Headmaster's stern, yet gentle voice stopped her in her tracks.  They didn't want to scare Severus away.

"Severus," Albus Dumbledore questioned in a halting voice.  "Can you hear us?"

It was like listening to a person shout through a train tunnel, he had decided.  Maybe he had dirt in his ears.  He brought his hand up to his face, brushing his long hair out of his face.  He felt the trail of blood along his cheekbone that it left.

"Please, Severus, acknowledge that you understand us."  Minerva McGonagall tried her own stern voice, and gained no response for her trials.

"Professor Snape, I'm terribly sorry that I left you in the Forbidden Forest like I did.  I didn't mean to.  Professor Dumbledore here says that somebody put me under a curse like Imperio."  Rubeus Hagrid motioned with his hand for Fang to sit at his side, and he saw Snape's eyes flicker toward him. 

_Almost there, yet, Severus_.  Albus thought to himself, hiding a smile that his Potions Master was alive again.

"Almost, yes."  Severus Snape's voice was raspy and hoarse, barely audible over the looming silence of the dark forest.  "But not quite."

Hagrid looked confused, but realized that Snape was talking to the Headmaster.  He wasn't required to say anything in response. 

"Professor, maybe you would like something to eat?  Or a bath?  Would you let me see to you?  I'm sure you must have wounds, you were ---"  Madame Pomfrey cut off, realizing that she was about to tell Snape he was dead. _ But then again, perhaps he knew that._

Snape's gaze, however, didn't even flicker in her direction.  He was studying at the Boy Who Lived.

_::How are the dreams, Mr. Potter?::_  Harry started violently when he realized he heard Professor Snape's voice inside his head.  ::_Aren't terribly violent, I hope.  I hope you did not dream of death as I did, Boy Who Lived.::_

"P-Professor, h-how are you d-doing that?"  Harry knew the ignominious catch in his voice was back again.

::I have seen many things, my boy.  Voldemort is only himself a small piece in the great scheme of things.::

Their silent conversation was cut off by Madame Pomfrey's gasp.  The Mediwitch had gone forward to inspect Snape's health, and had found his hands.

"D-dear, dear me, my dear boy," she cooed, as she would have to a student.  "What in the world have you done to your hands, Severus?"

His head turned in her direction, looking through her with black eyes that flashed pale blue in the dull light of the moon.  "I hurt them getting out of the coffin."


	7. chapter 7

Ex Umbris

Chapter 7

The man had just spoken inside of his head.  Harry Potter stood numbly, his hands at his sides, studying his sarcastic …and previously dead…potions teacher.  Inside his bloody head, like telepathy. 

His hair was the most startling aspect that Harry had noticed.  The once shoulder length black locks had grown post-mortem past his waist. It was not as snarled as one would have thought.  Perhaps hair growing on a body that had lay as still as death didn't become tangled on it's own.  It was, however, encrusted with dirt and blood:  likely from the escape from his coffin prison. 

Snape wore dress robes, the equivalent of a burial suit in the muggle world.  They were dirty and torn beyond repair. 

It was his eyes that frightened Harry.  They were black as pitch, as before his untimely death, but when the moon struck him just right they glowed pale blue, almost white, like a cat's eyes.  Harry knew he could see as if it were daytime.

The shocked silence continued, nobody willing to break it.  Snape flinched and inhaled sharply, pulling away when Madam Pomfrey lifted his hands in hers, beginning her healing spells.  "Severus, I have to …"

"No, doesn't feel right.  H-hurts."  Snape pressed his back into the bark of the tree, holding his hands against his chest. 

Finally, the mediwitch relented.  "At least let us get you back to Hogwarts and clean you up.  We can bandage your hands; we don't need magic for that.  Come on, dear."  She helped him to his feet, Hagrid on his other side, supporting his arms.

With Poppy and Hagrid's aid, and the rest of the crowd's silent moral support, Snape made his painful way across the field to the school.   Halting before the daunting stairway that led to the main entrance, the small assemblage greeted three more members to their own; Hermione, Ron and Neville were waiting at the bottom of the steps, visibly apprehensive; Neville slightly more so, his fear of the Potions Master unwavering even through death.

"Professor!"  Ron exclaimed suddenly, the first of the trio to notice their approach.  Hermione and Neville turned around, eyes wide. 

Harry walked forward to greet his year-mates, and Professor McGonagall insisted they go back to their dormitory.  The four reluctantly relented, not wanting to lose house points for directly disobeying a staff member.  Albus requested the Snuffles go with them; the unspoken agreement that it might cause unnecessary stress for Severus made the escaped convict reluctantly relent.

The remaining adults brought the bloody mess of a man to the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey being replaced by Albus so she could arrange a bed for him.  Once they sat Severus on the edge of the bed---he refused to lie down, as he also would have before his death---Poppy Pomfrey began cleaning his hands with a basin of soapy water, sitting down next to him.  The others merely stood, watching him, as if in shock.

"Severus?"  Albus began, not knowing how to ask such a personal question.

Snape merely looked up at him, a flicker of black eyes in his direction. 

"How did you …die, Severus?" 

The recently returned deceased thought for a moment, until it seemed he was not going to acknowledge Albus with an answer, until a quiet and simple "I don't know" emerged from his lips.

"You do not remember?"

He shook his head, slowly.

"How did you come back, then?  Do you remember that?"

"I …remember voices.  T-telling me that I must choose.  Another voice c-commanded them to return me to Life.  I belong to that voice, now.  I do not know who it was."

_Voldemort_ flashed through the minds of Albus, Minerva, Hagrid and Poppy simultaneously, startling Severus.  He shrugged almost imperceptibly.

Madame Pomfrey seemed to have finished cleaning his hands, so he added; "Do you mind if I take a shower, now?"

"Of course not, Severus."  Dumbledore assented.

"I will get the house elves to fetch you some fresh clothes from your rooms---you don't mind sleeping in the Hospital Wing tonight, do you?  I'd like to keep an eye on you."  Madame Pomfrey added, silently pleading with her eyes while wringing out the bloody cloth she used to clean his hands.  "You can use the Hospital showers."

Snape shrugged his shoulders, indifferent.

Hermione followed the boys into their dorm room, sitting next to Harry on his canopied bed, startling the Boy Who Lived.

"Hermione!  What are you doing?"  Harry stared at her, putting his glasses back on.

"Oh, honestly!  Do you really think that we're all going to be able to go back to sleep after what happened?"

Harry had been pretty sure he wasn't ever going to be able to close his eyes again without seeing Snape clawing his way out of a buried coffin.  When Ron muttered much the same thing, Snuffles whined slightly, and Harry suggested that they go to the Common room, where at least if they wouldn't be minus five-hundred points if they got caught having a girl in the boys' dorms.  Snuffles jumped onto one of the couches, curling up next to Harry, regretting that he couldn't turn back into a person until Neville was gone.

"We'll go see him in the morning, 'Mione.  It's Saturday, after all.  Then we'll see if he's still Snape, or if he's …something else."

"Well, I don't think he could get much more cruel and sarcastic, Harry.  Do you mean something else as in a good thing?"  Ron grinned innocently when the others shot him glares.

"I don't know.  He seemed …mellow.  Not one sarcastic remark or glare the entire time.  And …" Harry hesitated before telling them about Snape's ability to speak in his mind.  Hermione disappeared for a moment, returning with a parchment and quill.

"Hermy!  It's three o'clock in the morning!  Can't homework wait until tomorrow?"  Ron flinched when she sent him dagger-edged glares for her pet name.

"I'm taking notes on Professor Snape, Ronnikins." She shot back.  Ron looked affronted.  "You say he can read minds, Harry?  And speak telepathically to you?"

"Yeah, and his eyes looked …weird, in the moonlight.  They would glow, when the moon hit them right.  It was …"

"…Like a cat?"  Hermione finished for him.  "I need to research this some more.  Maybe seeing him tomorrow would help?"

Harry, Ron and Neville looked exasperated.  Snuffles growled slightly.


	8. chapter 8

Ex Umbris  
Chapter 8

"There now, Severus dear," Madam Pomfrey put his newly bandaged hands back in his lap. "Now, they're broken in quite a few places, and since Healing spells aren't working we'll have to rely on Healing potions."

"Healing potions and spells are for the living, of which I don't think I am quite yet."  Severus Snape studied the black and white tiled floor in front of the bed he was once again sitting on.  He was clean, finally, after what seemed like forever.  His hair---which had grown a startlingly lot since he last remembered---was still damp and brushed back to his waist.  The clothes the house elf brought for him included a baggy pair of dark green pajama pants and a comfortable white shirt, which remained unbuttoned at the top and shirttails untucked.

He sat with his legs folded on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees.  Madame Pomfrey sat across from him, on another bed, studying him.  "Of course you're alive, dear.  You're breathing, aren't you?"

Severus didn't acknowledge her, so she tried another tactic.  "Then we will have to wait for them to heal themselves, I suppose.  That will take a few weeks, a month at the most."

Suddenly, he moved.   

Poppy Pomfrey gasped out a curse.

**__**

Poppy Pomfrey was standing with her hands on her hips, looking down at her patient.

"…Well, I wasn't really going to _kill_ it.  Just get a snack, is all..."

The Headmaster decided to pretend he didn't hear that explanation and focus on the more pleasant …alive …side of the morning as he walked up to the hospital bed containing the potions master.  "Good morning, Severus, how are you feeling?"

"Better, Albus.  And yourself?"

"Oh, fine, fine.  Did you sleep well?"

"Not really.  I've been _sleeping_ for ninety days."

"Are you hungry?  Would you like me to bring you something to eat?"  Albus attempted, looking eagerly at the man through his half-moon shaped spectacles.

_…thirst I thirst for pain and fear and death and the hunt I must hunt and feed and kill…!___

__

_No!___

Snape quelled the anger and irritation and hunger, feeling nauseous at the thought of having to eat eggs or pancakes or something _dead _and _cooked_.  He was hungry …so hungry…but the thought of food made him feel ill.

_…throats and wrists and hearts…tearing and cutting and ripping and bleeding…thick and red and warm and pulsing …_

He felt his hands try to claw through the thick white bandages.  Have to control this.  Severus Snape is always in control.  Breathe.  Inhale.  Exhale.

_…screaming and begging and pleading …let me go, let me go! …you are mine, now, Severus.  I own you! … you are mine!  …you are me!  _

When Severus didn't answer the Headmaster, or even acknowledge that he had heard him at all, Poppy spoke up.

"Headmaster, may I have a word with you in private?"  Poppy was wringing her hands nervously on her spotless white apron.  Her eyes were red rimmed and sunken into her face.  She looked as if she hadn't slept in a week, from the level of stress emanating from the woman.

"Of course, Poppy.  If you would excuse us for a moment, Severus?"  When he didn't appear to hear Albus, the Headmaster and Poppy left to the outer door of the hospital wing.  They saw Minerva approaching, and waited for her to join them before Poppy spoke.

"Last night, Severus attacked a house-elf.  It was behind me …and he jumped past me and had the poor thing pinned to the wall next to the window.  There was something in his eyes …I don't know what …but he seemed to come to his senses before he harmed the poor thing."

"Dear Merlin," the transfiguration professor whispered hoarsely.  "Need I ask how he is?"  She peeked past Albus, through the door.

"He appears fine, very healthy.  Healthier than before he died, without the bouts of Cruciatus and the anxiety attacks to eat away at him.  Severus has the quickest metabolism I have ever seen, still.  The man can eat all of Hogwarts' kitchen and not gain an ounce."  She sounded slightly jealous as she folded her arms, but her face held a small, maternal smile.

"It's because he could never stop moving.  He would spend weeks working on a potion with only an hour of sleep every other night…" Minerva trailed off, her eyebrows drawing down over her eyes.  She was still looking into Poppy's workplace.  "What is he doing, now?"


	9. chapter 9

Yeah, about the whole Snape not growing a beard while he was dead thing ...totally a charm that keeps you automatically clean-shaven. No 5 o'clock shadow for Snapie. Just ignore the whole fact that the spell lasted post-mortem and all ...

Ex Umbris  
Chapter 9

Severus had been dead for three months, and then, mysteriously, he regained life. Necromancy was a dead art ...no pun intended. The Headmaster tapped his index finger against the foot-post of the bed he was sitting on. What in the world would bring a man back to life, if not the aid of a Necromancer? And what in the world would his motivation be? Did it have to do with Voldemort? Severus's position as a double agent? The fact that he spent four years to complete what would normally take fifteen at the University of Kunlun Plateau in China to attain his position as a Master of Potions? That he worked at Hogwarts, the place that housed The Boy Who Lived for the majority of the year?

Perhaps the voice Severus remembered hearing was, in fact, a Death Mage. If someone brought the dead back to life, the reanimated would be powerless to resist their master's wishes. Severus seemed to be working under his own free will. Except for the incident with the house elf …but then again, Severus was known for threatening them when he was concentrating on a potion.

Another question was the decided lack of rotting. Usually, a reanimated corpse wouldn't heal. He didn't think he could stand to see the man in the hospital wing for much longer.

Also was the question of silent magic done without a wand. He had lit several magelights in the past few nights; the small, illuminated orbs followed him around like globes bobbing in glassy water. Also, he had summoned several books from the library directly to his hand without a word or a flick of the wrist.

It ate away at Albus Dumbledore's brain. He himself knew a few forms of wandless magic, and performed proficiently at them, but Severus was more than a hundred years younger. There was no possible way that the man could learn working without a center for his magic so quickly, except if he was dead and in another realm for an undetermined amount of time.

Other worlds have different spans of time. The man could have spent three thousand years in another world... that would surely explain why he had a hard time remembering anything about his previous life...

Albus sat watching Severus, who was staring out a window with ancient eyes.

Severus Snape's replacement potions professor smiled at the chalkboard, where she was writing the ingredients to a simple sleeping draught for the third year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class she had next.

Professor Lobelia Lobdell was by no means a Master of her art, but she felt she had a mean knowledge of potions. She had studied for three years at the University of Danniemoria, in the United States, financially supported by her husband, who had later died from a misfired gun during Muggle Weapons Practice at his work. He had trained Aurors for seven years.

After his death, she dropped out of school and moved to Italy, working as a research assistant at the Beladon Laboratories for the controversial study of human spirits in potions. A year after she began working there, the lab was closed down by the Ministry.

Albus Dumbledore had hired her almost three months ago to teach at his famous school in Scotland, due to the mysterious death of his previous Master. Bella was keen to teach, but once she looked at the previous Master's curricula, she felt overwhelmed. She had learned some of these potions in her college years, but some of them were completely alien to her.

The old teacher's copy of _Moste Potente Potions_ had become a bible to her, and she brewed every potion she didn't know before she taught it to her classes. So far, with the exception of a few cauldron meltings, Filibuster fireworks, and small explosions, the year was going along without a hitch.

Until her predecessor returned from the dead, that is.

Severus Snape sat cross-legged on the wide stone railing of the balcony that overlooked Hogwarts' lake in the quiet, red-tinted hours of predawn, knowing full well that someone was watching him.

He'd been brought back almost a full month ago. His hands had mostly healed, no thanks to healing spells or potions, and since he had expressed no interest in returning to his teaching duties, Lobelia Lobdell had remained as the potions professor. He had agreed to tutor her in the more advanced techniques of potion-making that she had yet to acquire, along with overseeing the more advanced seventh-year classes.

He unconsciously brushed a thick lock of waist-length hair over his shoulder and contemplated the universe as the first rays of sunlight appeared over the trees.

Draco Malfoy stood in the shadows of a corner, hidden away from his old potions teacher, holding a penknife in his hand. The seventh year took a quiet, steadying breath and pushed himself reluctantly away from the wall, tightening his grip on the thin handle of the knife.

With surgical precision, Draco slid the small blade across the ball of his thumb. Maximum blood, minimum damage, the Dark Lord had explained.

He looked up to see Professor Snape watching him with burning red eyes. He hadn't moved, but was visibly holding himself back. His tight-mouthed expression frightened Draco.

Voldemort had summoned the pale-haired Death Eater for a private conference, asking Draco about the Potions Master after his …resurrection. Draco had noted the most unusual of the changes was that the Professor never carried a wand. He hadn't seen him do magic since then; but it wasn't entirely unusual, because he rarely displayed "foolish wand waving" even before his death.

The Dark Lord bade him to test this, and had suggested a minor wound with ample bleeding; too minor to go to the Hospital Wing, but major enough to require some sort of simple healing spell.

"Professor," Draco held his hand toward the motionless man. He studied the face that so resembled a stone mask and saw his jaw muscles clench. Blood dripped warmly down Draco's thumb and pooled in his palm. A few drops fell silently to the floor.


	10. chapter 10

Er, yup, I'm actually still alive … can't apologize enough for disappearing. I'm working three jobs, and tomorrow school starts. But at least I'm in fun classes ---Organic Chem, Environ Bio, Medieval European History, and Calculus! Too exciting. Anyway …I know that's no excuse. I'll keep plugging along, and The Fifth Marauder will _so_ be updated before you know it. I know how it ends, I just need to, you know, write it down. And reread the story, seeing as I can't remember slightly important plot points. I'm rambling again. What are you reading this for? Story's down there.

Ex Umbris

Chapter 10

Warning: There're a few nasty words in this chapter.

The blood was screaming at Severus. It required all of his strongly disciplined self-control to stop himself from lunging toward the student and grabbing him and tearing out his throat…

His hands balled up into fists, and he stood up in a single fluid motion.

"Professor? Could you heal me, please?" Malfoy took a step forward, but Snape edged away from him.

"Go," his words were strangled, forced.

"But, Professor Snape, it's such a small cut. Couldn't you heal it for me?" Malfoy moved toward him quicker than he should have, and in a moment of lapsed self-control, Snape grabbed the young man's wrist. His nose caught a strong, salty and sugary smell of fear, and it shocked him back into himself. He twisted the wrist and used Malfoy's momentum to flip him effortlessly over the side of the second floor balcony, into the lake.

The Giant Squid helped Draco back to the shore, and he stood in ankle deep water looking up at the balcony. He saw Snape look down at him, and then turn and calmly walk back into the school, looking for the life of him like he didn't just throw a student off the balcony.

Draco wondered what the Dark Lord had thought would happen.

Severus could still smell the blood as he slowly made his way toward the dungeons. The coppery smell of the sticky blood on his hand nearly overpowered him. The bittersweet taste of Malfoy's sapient fear was like a delicate appetizer, and leaving before the main course gave him an empty, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He unconsciously skirted a beam of sunlight that shone on the floor in the arched shape of the window. Sunrise had come and gone, and the brightness of the day was giving him a violent headache.

"Severus," Albus Dumbledore fell into step beside him, emerging from a random doorway. "How are you feeling this beautiful morning?"

Resisting the nearly instinctual urge to scowl a sarcastic reply, Snape instead answered: "Better than I felt a month ago, Headmaster."

Albus chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "I was hoping we might have tea together sometime, Severus. There are several things I've been meaning to ask you about."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy not among the least of these, I presume?" His headache had migrated down to his sternum. Severus felt a vice-like tightness grip his chest, making it a conscious act to breathe. He stopped and put a trembling hand on the wall for support.

"Well, as a matter of fact --- Severus?" Albus turned when he realized he was talking to himself. "Severus, what's wrong?"

The Potions Master felt his knees crack against the stone floor as his legs gave out. Albus ran over and wrapped a supporting arm around Severus's shoulders, keeping him from collapsing.

"I can't …breathe," Snape gasped, wrapping his arms around his torso and unconsciously leaning on the Headmaster.

"Albus …I …" _don't want to die again_.

"I know, my boy. I know." Albus reassuringly squeezed his shoulders. "Just try to stay awake, Severus. At least until Madam Pomfrey arrives. Severus? Can you hear me?"

Merlin … stop saying my name …I live to serve, My Lord …I was detained …couldn't get away …I tried to ---

By the time Madam Pomfrey arrived, Snape was unconscious.

"Blood loss." Madam Pomfrey confirmed quietly, rising from Severus's hospital bed.

"Blood loss from what?" Minerva scowled down at the still form.

Pomfrey was at a loss for words. She shrugged. "He hasn't got any wounds. It's …It's almost like his body is destroying blood cells rather than producing them. I've never heard of anything like this."

"Maybe we should take him to St. Mungo's?" Bella Lobdell suggested.

Albus shook his head. "Magic hasn't worked on him since …then. We'd have better luck taking him to a muggle hospital."

"Absolutely not!" Poppy Pomfrey huffed, turning on Albus like a protective mother hen. "They would probably take leeches to him … to 'bleed out the bad blood' or some such nonsense!"

"They don't do that anymore, Poppy," Bella grimaced. "I was raised as a muggle until I was 19, and I spent some time in a hospital for anemia …that's kind of like this."

"What did they do?" Minerva looked over at the young professor.

"They gave me iron supplements and adjusted my diet," she blushed and pushed wavy red hair out of her face. "Maybe that would help."

"Anything is worth a shot, my dear," Poppy conceded. "I just wish magic would work on him. It would be so much simpler." The three women bustled out of the Hospital Wing, talking animatedly about iron and blood and muggles.

Albus remained alone with Severus, silent, staring down at the drawn face of his tortured comrade. Slowly, he reached thin hands toward the Potions Master's collar and unfastened the top button, pulling his shirt away from his neck.

Pale scar tissue covered his neck in a jagged slash, over the external jugular, just over his collarbone.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, his most-hated conjecture forming into concrete. Severus Snape was a vampire.

But why hadn't Madam Pomfrey noticed during his exam, the first night he came back?

The Headmaster's eyes refocused as he felt a slight shift in the magic aura that surrounded the unconscious man. It looked as if Severus's magic was preparing it's own spell, without the caster's permission. Perhaps Severus had set wards around himself for protection. Albus straightened and began the slight hand-motion that summoned a basic shielding spell, but it was too late.

Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of his age, left the Hospital Wing wondering what could be wrong with Severus. He found the three witches outside and joined in their conversation about iron supplements and B12 vitamins. Perhaps Severus had developed anemia. Merlin knows he doesn't go to enough meals.

He opened his eyes, wincing at the too-bright whiteness of the ceiling. The pressure on his ribs was unrelenting, and it felt as if someone was sitting on his chest.

"It'll only get worse."

Sirius Black was standing in the doorway, but as Snape's eyes flickered toward him he entered and shut the door.

"Look, Snape …" Sirius had carefully avoided the Potions Master for the past month, but he had finally let guilt overtake him. "I …I saw what happened in the Forbidden Forest. I know what you are."

The blurry haze of dizziness receded slightly and Snape's eyes sought his in confusion. "What am I?" He asked in an unsteady voice.

Sirius hadn't expected Snape wouldn't remember. He looked down at the man in surprise and decided that schoolyard grudges needed to be set aside. He sat in the chair next to the Potions Master and turned it to face him.

"Snape …er, Severus," he began uneasily, but gained confidence when Snape didn't glare or say something sarcastic. "My best friend is a werewolf…" He stopped, trying to think about what he was trying to say.

"I knew that," Snape told him quietly, a quirk at the corner of his mouth the only telltale that he was amused. Sirius wasn't sure if he felt like smiling or slugging him.

"I grew up with a werewolf for a best friend. It was hard for him, but with the support of great friends and the teachers at Hogwarts, Remus got through it.

"It …well, you're not much different. I'll sure be hard, but we need you. Without you, there have been more Death Eater revels than ever before …"  
  
"Black?" Snape's eyes were closed, but he was talking, so Sirius hadn't bored him to death just yet.

"Yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm not a werewolf."

"You're a vampire, Snape. Not a lorelei, a zombie, a werewolf, or a khajiut. Just a vampire. And you're going to keep getting weaker until you …feed. I guess Draco Malfoy acted as a catalyst to your …Everyone noticed that you don't come to many meals, but I don't think even Dumbledore suspects …that."

The blood drained from Snape's face, making him match the blankets and walls, ceiling and floor.

…flashes of the cruciatus curse between bouts of non-magical beating. The twisted blade drawing thick lines of blood…

Blood. Voldemort had meant to draw blood to attract the vampire. The vampire …_black hair and grey eyes…a thick accent with a deep, feminine voice...red lips and pointed teeth…_ parts of a whole came together witha sudden ferocity that left him numb and cold. Student rumors and fears came to be the truth. A vampire.

"Shit."

Sirius shrugged imperceptibly. "It's nothing that we can't handle, Snape. We just need to find you …food."

"I-I…I can't _do_ that!" Snape replied hoarsely, his silky voice harsh with fear.

"You have to. It isn't that bad. Remus caught rabbits all the time, he could handle it."

"Get out of here."

"Snape!"  
  
"Fuck off!"

Sirius left, slamming the door behind him before realizing he was supposed to be disguised as Snuffles.

"Prat."

Uncle Demorvolet,

I proceeded as ordered. He threw me off the second floor balcony, performing no magic. Crabbe and Goyle followed him afterwards, and they report that the Headmaster attacked him. He is in the Hospital Wing now, but as of yet I have been unable to get in to see him.

It is my feeling that he is unsure which side he is loyal to. Perhaps now would be the time to summon him and bring him back to us.

Your nephew,

Draco Malfoy

"Tender-handed stroke a nettle, and it stings you for your pains; grasp it like a man of mettle, and it soft as silk remains." Voldemort chuckled quietly. "The child presumes to tell us what to do, but perhaps he has a point. Wormtail! Attend me, now!"

Aaron Hill, _Verses Written on a Window in Scotland_.

I know what you're going to ask, but I'll answer it in the next chapter. ::turns on The Exorcist theme and starts dancing around::

You know, if you review me, I might be so happy I'll write faster…


End file.
